


The taste of blood

by historymiss



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 07:44:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16828210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historymiss/pseuds/historymiss
Summary: 'It was a training exercise. She remembers that. The first time they were given bo staffs, the electric crackle making her fur raise on end, part fear, part anticipation. Many years later, she will see the same actinic glare in Adora's eyes when she raises her sword, and feel the same prickle of mixed excitement and dread. This time, she picks up the staff and faces off against Adora. Even then, there was no choice.'Catra loses a tooth and makes a promise.





	The taste of blood

Catra makes the promise when she's ten: or she thinks she was ten. She can never really remember how old she is, even now. Age doesn't matter in the Horde. It certainly doesn't matter to Shadow Weaver.

It was a training exercise. She remembers that. The first time they were given bo staffs, the electric crackle making her fur raise on end, part fear, part anticipation. Many years later, she will see the same actinic glare in Adora's eyes when she raises her sword, and feel the same prickle of mixed excitement and dread. This time, she picks up the staff and faces off against Adora. Even then, there was no choice.

The rest of the cadets chatter in excitement: Adora, always focused, just swings the new weapon back and forth in her hands and, catching Catra's eye, gives her a nod. A slight tilt of the mouth. And they begin. Staffs clatter against each other, striking hard enough to judder the bones. You always strike to kill, even in training. It's the first lesson, the one Shadow Weaver teaches to them again and again, in massed bruise-black energy and the empty beds in the barracks. Catra's learned it better than anyone else in the Fright Zone.

So. It happens like this. Adora lunges, and Catra doesn't duck. She doesn't wear headgear, not back then, and the pole catches her on the side of the mouth, hard enough for Catra to feel her jaw click as it's pushed sideways, a snapping sensation in the bone followed by blinding pain. Catra's mouth fills with blood and she drops to her knees, thankful that, with her mouth full, she can't wail. Wailing brings attention, and if she's going to face Shadow Weaver today, it won't be on her knees.

Closing her eyes, she spits a pointed tooth into her hand. Adora, of course, rushes to her side, but Catra gets up first. Closes her hand around the bloody tooth. 

"Catra, I'm so sorry- are you alright?" 

She won't remember the concern in Adora's eyes, but the way her voice twists with pity will stay with her for a long while. Sucking at the now-empty gap in the back of her mouth, Catra gives a close-lipped grin and taps Adora on the forehead with her staff.

"I got you."

Adora laughs nervously. "Catra, we should get that looked at-"

Across the hall, Shadow Weaver is watching in twin points of light, and the bitterness in Catra's mouth has nothing to do with blood anymore.

"I'm fine, Adora, really." She pockets the tooth: still has it, in fact, all these years later. "You hit hard."

And of course it's Adora who screws her face up like she's in pain, as if it's her jaw swelling up right now. Catra could never understand that, even then. Adora had a free ticket away from all the misery in the Horde: but she still insisted on taking it all on herself anyway.

"I'm sorry."

"Spare it." Catra spits on the floor, and that, she promises herself, is the closest anyone: Adora, Shadow Weaver, the whole damn Horde- will ever come to seeing her bleed. She resets her stance, staff out, feet apart.

"Come at me again."


End file.
